


A Skeleton of Something More

by mutanitys (chekov)



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, M/M, Student Council
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 06:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7606456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chekov/pseuds/mutanitys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Head Boy and the school's embodiment of a model student, Charles Xavier is no stranger to dealing with campus quarrels incited by troublemakers. But no student is as mysterious as Erik Lehnsherr, a silent and broody boy that no one seems to be able to figure out.</p><p>Charles is determined to do exactly that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Skeleton of Something More

_“Not again.“_

_“_ Uh, yeah again.” Sean blinks a few times too many, successfully giving off the impression of a sleepy and disoriented hamster. “And this time I’m pretty sure he was very close to setting the kid on fire —”

“ _Thank you,_ Sean, I will do my best to deal with this… scuffle personally before the heads of department catch a whiff of it. God knows what _they’d_ do to him then.“

“Wouldn’t call a fire hazard a ‘scuffle’, though,” says Sean thoughtfully. “Erik nearly kind of, you know, killed someone.”

Charles winces and tries his best to push the mental image away from his immediate consciousness. He averts his gaze outside instead, where the large, white window frames overlook the school’s main courtyard that doubles as a mess field during breaks between classes. At an all-boys boarding school like theirs, catching sight of a wandering student out on the fields playing an aggressive-looking sport or curled up in one of the school’s coveted alcove of peace is pretty much guaranteed. There’s never a shortage of livelihood, ruckus and general hubbub on campus.

But it’s one day before Christmas break, and more than the disincentive that takes the form of a thick blanket of snow carpeting the large soccer field, there’s also the subdued excitement of going back home for the winter, reuniting with families and friends and being able to kick back for the next few weeks.  

 _Everyone except me,_ thinks Charles ruefully. Even the Deputy Head Boy has left for his dorm early to pack, leaving Charles as the Head Boy to take care of last-minute housekeeping tasks. Which evidently includes with disciplinary actions during festive times. Charles breathes out slowly to try and dispel some of the tension around his shoulder as Sean looks on, seemingly oblivious to his distress.  

“What am I going to do?” Charles mumbles half to himself.

But of course, Sean’s seemingly superhuman hearing catches this. “Can I be honest here?“

“Of course.”

Sean shuffles his feet. “I really don’t understand why you keep standing up for him.”

“It’s my role to be the voice of the student body.” This Charles declares mechanically, like he’s reading off a manual book. “Fair consequences that are suited to the root cause of violence on school grounds is essential to maintain peace, trust and motivation —"

Probably understanding Charles’ reasoning, or simply getting tired of picking at a dead end so often, Sean cuts him off with a non-commital hum and a shrug. “Well, you’re the boss I guess. Just stay out of danger’s way, right?“

Charles smiles easily. His underclassmen can be awfully considerate sometimes. “Thank you Sean, hopefully it’ll be nothing I can’t handle.”

 

 

*

 

 

It might be something Charles can handle, but that doesn’t mean he actually _wants_ to.

Between the main school building — where the all their classes are held — and the first of the residential buildings, an open space that leads up to a small pavilion stretches out. Charles particularly loves this spot in the springtime, when the footpath would be smattered with flecks of leaves and flanked by well-groomed blades of grass. But now, in the biting cold of early December with only the wet patches on the brick left behind by shovelled snow to marvel at, Charles feels a different kind of chill as he studies a figure curled up on one of the four benches, broad shoulders hunched forward part from the cold and part from the simmering anger palpable even from a distance. It is impossible to mistake the student as anyone other than Erik Lehnsherr.

The thing is Charles Xavier has always been intrigued by the broody teenager, infamous for his defiance towards many of the teaching staff and often inexplicable acts of violence towards other students. While most disciplinary dilemmas are often solved by the student body first and foremost, Erik’s actions are so alarming that any occurrence in which he is involved is usually taken straight to the Head Master.  

They cross paths once or twice every week, but otherwise what information Charles has about Erik he hears more often than he sees. It’s with trepidation that he walks along the path, willing his legs not to shake under the weight of anticipation and curiosity.

“What are you going to do now?” The question seems hollow, devoid of any emotion, and if Erik isn’t the only person in the vicinity Charles would have never guessed it was his voice. “Report me? File a document for my suspension? Or maybe expulsion?“

“Don’t be dramatic,” the chatter in his teeth belies Charles’ nervousness despite his carefree tone.  

“Dramatic? It’s fair play for someone who nearly set a kid on fire, isn’t it?”

He walks slowly towards the bench by the pavilion, feeling the snow crunch under his boots. The sound finally garners enough attention from Erik, who tears his gaze away from the trees to stare — _glare_ — at Charles. He tries not to flinch under the steely stare.

“I’m going to talk to you.“

Erik snorts, and looks away. “You’re not going to psychoanalyse me, Xavier. This is not an episode of Dr. Phil.”

“Call me Charles,” he calmly replies instead, sliding easily into the vacant space on the bench. “And no one said anything about psychoanalysing.“

“Isn’t that the Head Boy’s job?” Erik sneers, picking at the peeling dark brown paint of the bench. “Other than butlering to the teachers’ every need. ‘Morale boosting, holding pep talks, student couseling’ — face it, you’re just a glorified therapist for kids.”

“A therapist is a very respectable occupation.“

“Okay, cut to the chase, give me any punishment you want and save us both the pain of conversing.”

“With all due respect, Erik, I do not wish to punish you for anything.”  

The annoyance radiating from his every pore is palpable even in the numbing cold. “And why the fuck not?“

Charles scoots closer, ever so slightly. “Because I believe you have a legitimate reason to do what you did.”

“You mean endangering a fellow student.“

“No,” says Charles patiently. “I’m talking about self-defense.” When Erik laughs incredulously, Charles presses on. “I’m talking about the student inciting the… scuffle, the argument, and you were merely attempting to —”  

“I know what fucking _self-defense_ means,” Erik whirls around, his eyes a mixture of panic, denial and hurt over being patronised.

“I — I apologise —"

“Why the fuck do you think I need to _defend_ myself against a bunch of… _inferior_ —"

“There it is again,” interrupts Charles, an act that seems to further irritate Erik. “Why are you — _adamantly_ insisting that you’re the antagonist in all this?“

“This bullshit is starting to sound a lot like I’m on goddamn Dr. Phil, alright,”

“You know, if you just _talked_ to someone there wouldn’t have to be misunderstandings.“

“And what if I told you there were none?” Erik has his body facing Charles now, chest heaving with anger and every exhalation coming out as white puffs of air. “What if it’s as simple as a fight? Hm? Do you require a definition for that, Xavier? A fight?”

“There must be a root cause to every fight.“

“For fuck’s sake —”

Then Charles makes the mistake of an innately tactile person who grew up with loneliness — he reaches out for Erik’s hand. “Look, you have a friend in me to talk —“  

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before he feels a sharp pain on his jaw that sends him tumbling backwards into the snow, his head and right shoulder hitting painfully against the backrest of the bench. He faintly recalls the sound of his own yelp, mostly in surprise, as he reaches up to clutch at his aching jaw. With his cheek pressed against the cold, Charles moves his jaw and tastes something metallic in his mouth.

He looks down and sees red, but doesn’t get a chance to react before a hand tugs him up by the collar — and all of a sudden a clearly livid Erik is leaning in close to him, his warm breath a warning against his cold skin.  

“You want me to tell you the root cause?” Charles half expects Erik to punch him again, but he simply pulls him closer so that Charles can’t help but stare into the icy grey of his pupils. “Sitting in your plush, heated office in the West wing — _you_ ,” Erik shakes him harshly, “have _no_ ** _fucking_ ** idea what being an outsider feels like!“

Charles doesn’t try to hide the bitterness in his laugh.

“Satisfied? Go on. Rat me out to the Heads, kick the goddamn freak off your privileged campus.”

_What being an outsider feels like? I might have an idea._

It seems as if the air stills around them when Erik freezes and his eyes go wide, hands still gripping the collars of Charles’ uniform. And although his face does not belie any expression, Charles’ fingers tremble as he presses on, intent on slipping Erik’s thoughts without coming across as invasive or even hostile.

Images flicker in Charles’ mind, and he raises his eyebrows as realisation dawns.

_I see. That lighter was made of metal, and it was thrown at you._

Erik’s eyes glance downwards at Charles’ lips. There’s panic, sure, but there is mostly awe and disbelief. “You’re not moving your mouth.“

_No, I am not. Thanks for noticing. And it may not make perfect sense, but what makes perfect sense is your reaction towards having a lighter that was used first to light a cigarette — which is prohibited on school grounds, by the way —thrown at you on your way to the dorms._

“You’re in it — I can feel —”

 _Tried to ignore it? That seems uncharacteristic of you. But then again, your image has been terribly convoluted around here. Perhaps the action is within character after all — oh._ Charles grows quiet, watching the image of a group of boys taunting Erik to move the lighter buried in the snow like a pack of wolves waiting to see a rabbit slip.  

_I guess your retaliation is completely in character —_

Charles must have been unintentionally projected a feeling — sympathy, perhaps — too intense for Erik because a second later he lets go and drops Charles unceremoniously onto the cold ground, before leaping up to pace around the smaller boy like a predator waiting to pounce. Charles ignores this, groans as he lifts an arm to wipe the blood off the corner of his mouth.

“How —"

“Look, I’m getting a little chilly,” Charles says. He straightens his navy and grey blazer, ignoring the red blotch now on his pristine sleeve. “How about you come in for some hot chocolate, hm?“

Erik zeroes in on the red stain. Charles rolls his eyes.  

“I don’t have a secret stash of alcohol anywhere, so you can stop looking so hopeful.” It’s distracting, the way Charles is acting like the past ten minutes has never happened. “But I’ve got tea.”

Erik swallows. He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t decline either, which Charles takes as a ‘yes’.

There has never been a more genuine, warm and proud smile on Charles Xavier’s face.  

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, Sleeping At Last for your beautiful song titles (that I completely rip off for my fics... their songs are beautiful though y'all should definitely check them out)
> 
> originally posted on tumblr @ mutanitys

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Pleasant Nightmare (remix of A Skeleton of Something More)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15103586) by [newbie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/newbie/pseuds/newbie)




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